


lovedrunk (the 'Sozzled' remix)

by clevelandy



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Canon Compliant, Caretaking, Carry On Remix, Drunkenness, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Himbo! Simon, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Partying, Penelope Bunce is a Good Friend, Penelope Bunce is done with simon's shit, Possessive Behavior, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Remix, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Sneaky simon, SnowBaz, Trauma?, University, We don't know her, baz is a good boyfriend, but also kinda not, but i promise u this is the least amount of pain u will endure while reading my work, i know its hard to believe, let baz be a good boyfriend 2020, let simon be sneaky 2020, let simon pretend to be drunk so that his boyfriend has to take care of him 2020, listen to me when i tell you: this fic has NO ANGST, love you agatha, mentions of Agatha, mentions of recreational drug use, not obsessively just like... a smidge, okay we mentioned her maybe twice but other than that we dont know her, or is it ;), thats a funny tag like shes a trigger warning, thats the plot, the fact that that isn't a tag is a crime, why isn't that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clevelandy/pseuds/clevelandy
Summary: Simon Snow has never been particularly good at planning- nor plotting. That being said, maybe pretending to be drunk wasn’t such a good impulse to follow.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 19
Kudos: 124
Collections: Carry On Remix





	lovedrunk (the 'Sozzled' remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twokisses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twokisses/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sozzled](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595780) by [twokisses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twokisses/pseuds/twokisses). 



> hiiiii!!
> 
> This fic is a remix! I recommend that you read the original first!  
> I had a lot of fun participating in this event and working with the plot of this fic. I also have to say that this is, without a doubt, the happiest thing I have ever written. 
> 
> Thank you so much to [sbazzing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbazzing/pseuds/sbazzing/works?fandom_id=24640878) for being open to a remix and for writing the original fic! All of your plotlines are bright and your writing is beautiful. I had so much fun reading through all your fics, and I highly recommend all of them. I really hope you enjoy this remix :)
> 
> Another thank you to [aralias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias) and [giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu) for organizing this event. It is SO much work to organize and you provided so much valuable information. Thank you so much for making it so fun to participate in!
> 
> Last but CERTAINLY not least, thank you to my betas/spouses/grandparents [adamarks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamarks/pseuds/Adamarks) and [caitybug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitybug/pseuds/Caitybug) . You are both lovely and, frankly, I am extremely gay for you.

Not going to parties, Simon thinks, is an unfortunate sacrifice that comes along with being the thing of prophecy. 

Simon never had _time_ for parties at Watford, and he certainly didn’t attend them after whatever happened _after_ Watford. But, he always felt sort of bummed about it. 

Parties, he decides now, are fucking fun.

Occasionally, Agatha would go to a party while Simon was off with the Mage. He’d come back late in the night, see too many lights on in one of the dormitories, and would make a mental note to harass Agatha about it. The next day he’d always ask her what had happened: who had been there, what alcohol tastes like, if Baz had been there (he’d gone to one, as far as Simon knew. Thinking about him dancing with some girl while Simon was off fighting a hoard of fire-breathing owls had made Simon want to breathe fire. He wasn’t sure why it upset him so much at the time, but now he has a pretty good idea), and if she had had fun. 

Agatha never really seemed to have fun at parties. Aside from pure curiosity, he’d actually ask her to see if the parties made her happy, but more often than not she’d tell the night back to Simon as if writing a book report on a dictionary.

It wasn’t until later that Agatha told him she never liked social events at Watford because everyone only ever wanted to talk to her about _him_. He could understand why that would be frustrating. Clearly, parties at Watford were just another appearance she had to make in her position. She wished she could stay home. 

Parties may not have been Agatha’s favorite scene in Watford, but if they were anything like this, then Simon would’ve loved them. 

The house is overcrowded. There are far too many rooms with even more speakers, meaning the indistinct thump of club music and screaming voices pounds into Simon’s chest no matter where he goes. Everyone either holds a red cup (or two) or is going to get one. There are even a few strings of neon lights blinking thrilled patterns into Simon’s eyes.

It’s everything that Simon imagined parties would be. 

And it’s fucking awesome.

He had been a little nervous upon being invited. Truthfully, it was mostly because he hadn’t actually been invited. Penny had, but everyone knows that wherever Penny goes, Simon goes. And wherever Simon goes, Baz goes. So inviting one of them is an automatic assumption that three will be attending, thanks. 

He’d also been nervous about being around so many people. Simon is definitely a people person- he manages to make a new friend in every class he takes at uni. But, there’s always a little pang of nervousness around meeting someone new and wondering if they like him. Residual effects from being the Worst Chosen One Ever.

Now, as he stands in the center of a crowded dining room turned beer-pong stadium, he can hardly believe what he’s been missing out on. Everyone seems so happy at parties (save for Baz and Penny, who had fixed Simon with a drink and told him to meet them back at a corner when he had had his fun). Everyone seems to like Simon, pulling him this way and that to get him to talk or play games. Best of all, the food and drinks are free.

Simon had only had one drink upon arriving. There was a pseudo bartender in the mansion’s kitchen who, upon Penny’s prompting, had handed Simon a cup of something simultaneously sickeningly sweet and too spicy. He didn’t particularly like the taste, but it made his chest feel warm, so he downed it and tossed the cup into the trash. 

The drink had done its part of easing Simon’s nerves. Or, maybe he felt at ease because parties are _fucking_ _awesome_. 

More than anything else, he’s high on the energy (and not on anything else)(though, he had stumbled upon Colin, a bloke from his marketing course, sitting in the living room with a bong. He had tried to beckon Simon over, but the smell in the room made Simon back away). Everybody’s happy. Everybody wants to see Simon. They all want to spend time with him and hear what he has to say about this or that. It’s _fun_. 

So, he lets himself indulge in it. He travels from group to group, slinging his arm around people's necks and making easy conversation. If he stopped to think about it he probably would wonder why it’s so easy to make people laugh and lose the gall, but he doesn’t. Jokes and friendly teases spill from him like a faucet, and everyone’s perfectly happy to drink it up. 

Simon feels a zip go up his spine every time he makes a group of friends laugh. He’s absolutely giddy with it. He wishes Baz could feel this way. 

He’s sure Baz isn’t feeling this way. 

Baz was rather upset to be here, as far as Simon was concerned. He had scoffed when Simon demanded that Penny and he come to the party, but he scoffs at everything. He had also complained the entire way here, but he also complains about everything. What really gave it away was the way he clung to Simon when they got here; hand cupping his waist, arm around his shoulder, a grip on the back of his neck. Baz often takes advantage of Simon’s new comfortability with PDA, but he’s proved to be especially grabby when he’s nervous. 

Simon sort of loves it.

Baz had followed Simon around for a little while, a glum look in his droopy eyes even as Simon introduced him to all his favorite classmates. He kept trying to cheer him up by including him in on jokes or introducing him to more people so he wouldn’t feel so left out, but eventually, Baz slipped away and told Simon to find him once he was done galavanting. 

After deciding that Baz was fine, Simon decided to do just that: galavant. Still, he kept an eye on his boyfriend’s location- back corner, cup in hand. After a few glances, he noticed Penny had joined him. Good, he thought, they’ll ground each other. 

A roar of laughter comes from the group he’s talking to (American exchange students. He told them a perfectly curated line about the time they went to Chicago and expected to drive to California. It killed) when Simon notices he lost sight of Baz. He waits until someone else starts speaking, claps his nearest friend on the back, and excuses himself from the little group. 

Luckily, Baz is in the same place he left him. He’s holding what looks to be the same cup- a Bloody Mary (not being able to share that irony with anyone else all night has been hell). Simon walks up from behind him, so he can’t see the look on his face, but he can imagine it. Besides, he doesn’t need to see his face to know how he’s feeling. His shoulders are tight under his shirt and his legs are pressed together. Penny looks the same, though there’s a slight sway in the way she’s standing. 

Simon is sure there’s a sneer on Baz’s face.

And, well, he looks great. Tight, dark jeans and a flowing shirt. He always looks great. Even from behind. _Especially_ from behind. 

And, if Simon half wishes Baz weren’t leaning against the wall, in a way that perfectly accentuates the curve of his waist, when other blokes can see him, then that’s Simon’s business. Possessiveness is not healthy, he reminds himself, but also, that’s _my_ fit _boyfriend_. 

Someone calls his name from behind him, and Simon rips his gaze from Baz’s arse (probably for the best. He looks like a creep, staring at him like that). He can’t remember the name of the person waving him over towards a crowd who’ve started dancing. Simon recognizes them, pretty, tall, with glasses too far down their nose and tattoos totally covering their dark, muscular arms, but he can’t remember at the moment if they’re in his Statistics or his History course.

He waves back and turns back around, pretending he doesn’t understand their request. Simon still doesn’t really know how to dance, and he wouldn’t dance with anyone that wasn’t Baz. If Baz asked him to dance he’d probably manage- he’d done it with him before. 

Actually, dancing _with_ Baz does sound fun. 

He walks up behind him and Penny, a bright smile on his face, preparing to ask Baz to dance with him. Just when he gets within earshot, he hears Baz’s posh voice.

“Where’s Snow?” 

“Right here,” he responds, leaning into Baz’s ear. Recognition immediately maneuvers through Baz’s body in the way he stills before melting back, but Simon doesn’t give him time to turn around, instead sliding his arms around Baz’s waist and pressing up against his back. 

He might imagine the flickers of glances he gets when he comes up and presses himself up against Baz’s back. Regardless, he feels pretty pleased with himself. Even more so when Baz leans into him. His body is cool as always- a welcome temperature change at any time, but especially after being surrounded by hot bodies all night.

He’s grinning stupidly- he’s just so bloody happy. A party is fun, but a party _and_ Baz? Merlin and Morgana, Simon’s pretty fucking lucky. 

“Hey,” he says to Baz, who turns his head to look back at him. He’s lovely, even at a tilted angle. Simon is happy to see his face. Maybe happier than he’s been all night- and he’s been pretty fucking happy. Maybe all the happiness has compiled together.

“Well, you look familiar,” Baz replies, looking at him through his eyelashes and setting his arm over Simon’s. He looks so pretty that, for a second, Simon doesn’t understand what he means- did Baz meet someone who looked like Simon? Then it dawns on him.

“I wasn’t gone that long!” He protests after laughing. He’s pressed up tight against Baz, so when someone bumps into him from behind his chest is shoved up against Baz’s back. Baz adjusts his arm to keep his drink from spilling over before elbowing Simon in the stomach.

“Shouldn’t you know by now, Simon?” Penny teases. Simon almost forgot she was there after staring at Baz for so long. He feels a little guilty about that, so he smiles at her. She acts the same when Shepard’s around, so he doesn’t feel too bad. Plus, her eyes are a little unfocused. “Dramatic pining is Basilton’s shtick.” 

Baz turns his face away from Simon to look at her. She beams.

“I know,” he responds, making Baz’s head whip over with a glare. There’s no malice behind it- so it makes him want to laugh. “I think it’s cute.”

“Don’t call me cute,” Baz commands, a familiar sneer on his lips. 

“Cute,” Simon says back, his voice lifting up into a sing-songy tone. He leans in, peppering Baz’s shoulder and neck while repeating, “Cute cute cute.”

“How drunk are you?” Baz accuses, lifting his shoulder and turning away from him to cease his kisses. 

That gives him pause. He hadn’t really taken inventory on his feelings all night, aside from the overwhelming joy of being there. Not that he had taken inventory of that either- he had simply let himself float in it.

He lifts his hand and brings his thumb and index finger close together. “This much. Wait, no-“

Was he drunk? No, certainly not drunk, but how would he test on a breathalyzer? He only had one drink, but really, how do you measure drunkenness? Drunker than normal, noted by the heat behind his ears. There were definitely drunker people at the party though- but he _is_ drunker than Baz. Could he drive safely? Absolutely. Maybe Baz asked because he wanted him to drive. Simon isn’t really in the mood to drive.

He makes the gap between his finger and thumb bigger. “This. Hmm… no…”

He must seem convincing. Baz arches his perfect eyebrow and turns to Penny. “I think we should get going.” 

Simon wants to complain. He’d like to stay longer and dance with his two favorite people, but then Penny sighs in relief and sets her cup down on the nearest table.

“Oh good. I’ll message the host in the car. Let’s go.”

Baz sets his own drink down and turns around, unwinding Simon's arms from him. He takes his hand in one of his while his other arm, the one closer to Simon, wraps around his waist. 

Simon is fully aware of his own inability to come to solid conclusions when given information, but he _can_ put two and two together when necessary. Namely, he notices that the thought of Simon being drunk leads to Baz holding onto him as if he’ll tumble without him. He also knows that he likes being held. 

Conclusion: A little white lie about his sobriety won’t hurt anyone. 

There’s something exciting about leaving the party being slung over such a fit bloke, even if that bloke is your boyfriend. Well, maybe especially so.

“Look at us, everyone,” he imagines shouting as they make their way to the exit. Nobody really notices them leaving, but a boy can dream. “We’re in love. Sometimes we have sex.”

Knowing how they look (and how it feels to press his side into Baz’s cool body), he doesn’t have to be told twice to lean onto Baz. He bumps his head onto Baz’s shoulder and squeezes his hand. Baz presses a kiss to the side of his head. The music is still thumping when they head outside.

**-**

Everything seems to be going according to plan, or a beautiful lack thereof, when Baz slides into the driver's seat. Simon likes driving, but he prefers it when Baz does. He likes holding his hand over the gear shift- he usually gets too distracted when Baz tries to do the same to him. Simon also likes how Baz looks while driving (calm, focused, strong), though he has to keep the ogling down when Penny’s in the car.

It goes less according to his plan when Baz shoves him into the backseat by demanding that Penny rides shotgun.

A sober Simon would complain about his demotion to the backseat. A supposedly drunk Simon, however...

He compensates for his own loss by slinging his arms around Baz’s seat from behind, feeling over his chest and shoulders until Penny slurs a threat to spell a seatbelt onto him. He sighs and sits back immediately- seat belt spells always make Simon gassy and bloated. 

“Are you guys… I think we should get food,” Simon says, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumps against the backseat. Drunk people get hungry, right? Or is that weed.

“Everything’s closed, Snow,” Baz says without looking at him (Simon watches him from the rearview mirror). “You can eat something at home.”

His nonchalance secures that his acting is decent enough, so Simon is momentarily chuffed. Then he remembers that he’s _actually hungry._

“McDonald’s is open,” Simon argues, a lilt to his voice as he taps his fingertips over the yellow light streaming into the backseat window. Nobody responds though, so he leans forward in his seat again, hooking his chin over the backrest of Baz’s seat. For a moment he fears that Penny really will hit him with a seatbelt spell, but it only takes a glance to realize that she’s fallen asleep in her seat, mouth having fallen slightly open.

“Simon, sit back,” Baz warns, finally flicking his gaze up to the mirror. Simon meets his eyes and grins.

“Nope,” He says, popping the ‘p’. Baz’s eyes narrow on the road. “I think I’ll stay right here.”

“ **Belt Up** ,” Baz responds boredly. It takes Simon, sober or not, a moment to realize it’s a spell instead of a command. 

The seatbelt nearest to him pulls outward like a snake preparing to strike. Instead of swallowing him whole, the strap wraps around his body, clicking itself into the latch before tightening fast to pull him flush against the back of the seat.

It all happens so fast that Simon doesn’t even utter a complaint, but the second the spell ceases he feels his stomach turn. He furrows his brow and growls. 

That’s when Simon decides he’s wasted. 

-

Simon falls out of the car when the door opens. 

Or, he tries to. The fucking seatbelt’s holding him back. So he just melodramatically slumps over. Baz is there in an instant too, hands all over Simon’s chest and shoulders. He’s quiet during the shuffle, all but going limp as Baz coaxes him out of the car. It serves him right. 

Simon is almost certain that Baz is capable of carrying him into the apartment building and up the stairs. He could probably carry Penny up at the same time if he didn’t need her help opening the doors. He could stack them on top of each other like pancakes and head up the flights without breaking a sweat. 

Or, maybe he’s been watching too many vampire movies.

Regardless, Baz makes a great fuss about dragging Simon inside, to the point where Simon starts to feel a little bad. Plus, his complaints are scattered between quiet encouragements. It’s too sweet- Simon’s teeth hurt.

He compromises by leaning against Baz only partially, sliding an arm around his shoulders as they walk together inside.

Baz’s laziness and utter disregard for how sick his vampire strength is is further proved when he lets Penny “ **Up, Up and Away** ” the three of them up through the apartment’s stairwell. Simon has never seen anyone cast while drunk (or tipsy, as Penny seems to be after waking up from her nap). Despite a garbling in her first attempt at pronunciation, Penny’s pure will shines through the alcohol, and the three are lifted into the air and set down gently in front of their door.

Simon is left a little lightheaded in response to the spell. He’s never felt that way before with Penny’s magic; he wonders if it’s because she’s feeling lightheaded. Baz blinks a few times and tightens his grip on Simon while Penny grumbles something unintelligible and sticks her key into the lock.

If his friends keep throwing spells at him he’s going to end up actually feeling drunk. 

Penny is the first one to push her way into the apartment. She’s tired, Simon knows, because when she tosses her coat onto the rack and turns to size the two of them up, there’s a weary look in her eyes. Simon avoids her gaze, instead tucking into Baz and slinging both arms around his neck. Baz circles one arm around him to hold him to the side.

“I can handle him,” Baz tells Penny over Simon’s shoulder. Simon had been swaying a little in his arms to keep up the appearance, but he stands up straight to prove Baz’s point. Penny is tired, and Simon would like to be alone with Baz. His arm around his waist is sturdy. He also smells nice. 

She sighs in relief, shoulders visibly relaxing under her orange jumper. “Call me if you need anything,” she says, kicking off her shoes near the door. Simon watches her to make sure she leaves, but he feels Baz nod against the side of his head. “Goodnight. ‘Night, Simon.”

Simon sings out his response while Baz mumbles it, and then Penny disappears around the corner to her room. 

“Alright, Snow. Come on,” Baz sighs, toeing his shoes off, “Shoes off.” 

Simon nods, lifting himself away from Baz and bending down to untie his laces. Baz places a hand to his lower back, resulting in: a flush creeping across Simon’s cheeks, a dull notion that perhaps he isn’t acting as drunk as he was when he made Baz drag him up the stairs, and an unsteadying of his posture.

And then Simon, the completely sober, worst chosen one to ever be chosen, falls onto his arse with a thud. 

Baz scrambles, hands shooting out to try to grab for him a half-second too late, but Simon’s already breaking out into giggles on the floor. His wings and tail shoot out from his skin just then, creating a fitting explosion for his gymnastics debut. 

The look on Baz’s face, concern and panic, only makes Simon laugh more. He rolls onto his side and clutches his stomach.

“You’re a mess, Snow,” Baz says after a moment, a fondness softening his expression. He kneels onto the floor, holding Simon’s ankle as he smiles down at him with an eyebrow raised.

“D… Didn’t you say that’s why you like me?” Simon asks, a little breathless from laughing so hard. He wipes a tear from his eye and props himself up on one elbow.

“I did,” Baz hums, starting to untie Simon’s shoes. He could take his own shoes off now that he’s on the floor. Even if he were drunk. He’s not going to stop Baz though. “Although I wonder why, sometimes.”

“You’re joking,” Simon says, gesturing towards Baz with a finger. He can barely stomach the little smile that plagues Baz’s face when his shoulder lifts in a shrug.

“I am,” He responds, voice soft and smile shy. 

Simon falls quiet then, watching as Baz diligently unties his double knots and pulls the shoes from his feet. The sight is so sweet; Simon gulps down a breath and tries to swallow down the guilt of his actions with it. Baz shouldn’t have to take care of him like this. At the same time, Baz is so _fucking_ sweet and Simon loves him so _fucking_ much. 

“There,” Baz starts. He’s broken from his self-loathing when Baz reaches forward and takes his hands in his, trying to tug him forward. “Now, let’s get you to bed.”

Simon pulls back. He wants a hug. He’s not sure how he can ask for that.

“Noooo,” he whines, tugging back on Baz’s hands. Baz looks bewildered, hair falling partially over his face.

“No? And why not?”

Simon frowns. He doesn’t have an answer to that. He can’t give up his charade now. What would a drunk person say?

“I’m sleepy.”

“You can sleep. In your bed,” Baz pleads, tugging back on Simon's hands. “Which is a few short steps away from you.”

“I…. can’t move.” 

Simon isn’t sure what he’s arguing for, but he’s kept the whole drunk thing up by playing it by ear. So far that’s resulted in spells being tossed at him like grenades, but it’s also led to some choice clinging. Who knows what else Simon can get.

“What do I have to do? Carry you?” Baz muses, lip curling up in a half-smirk as he rolls his eyes.

Oh _hell_ yeah.

“No,” Baz cuts at Simon’s widening eyes, expression already darkening.

“Baz!” Simon whines.

“I’m not carrying you to your bed. Are you five?”

“ _You_ said it,” Simon argues, trying hard to keep the grin from spreading across his face. Baz looks exasperated.

“It was meant as a joke,” Baz grumbles.

Simon squints.

“Then I’m sleeping on the floor,” he says, promptly removing his hands from Baz’s and crossing them over his chest while he juts out his chin. It’s easy to act drunk, he thinks, when he’s just acting on his true desires.

“You are not serious.”

Simon swings his head back over to look at Baz and tries to lift an eyebrow. He’s never really managed to master that skill, so instead, he just looks at Baz with both brows raised in clear defiance.

Baz closes his eyes and takes in a calming breath, so loudly that Simon can hear him sucking in air. He hopes he’s won- that Baz’s exasperated breath is him giving in. He also thinks Baz looks lovely, especially when he’s giving in to what Simon wants. He should do it more often.

Simon stares at him up until Baz lifts himself from his feet and bends down to slide one arm under his neck and one under his knees. There’s an abrupt falling feeling in the pit of Simon’s stomach as Baz lifts him that causes a giggle to spill from his lips. 

The way Baz holds him makes his wings curl like a blanket around his body, so he wraps his arms around Baz’s neck to spread them enough to keep him from drowning in his own appendages. He wraps his tail around Baz’s forearm too- and doesn’t miss the way the corner of Baz’s lips curl up into a smile when he does so. There’s no way Baz will drop him, but holding onto him makes Simon feel secure. 

He certainly feels secure. Baz’s chest is cool and broad against him. His arms are strong enough to hold him without much strain, yet he feels anything but crushed. His wings, frustrating as they may be, swaddle him in a way that shouldn’t be as comfortable as it is.

More than anything else, the fact that Baz is even willing to carry him makes him feel at ease with the world. Nothing can go wrong when Baz is with him. He tucks closer to him.

Baz, Simon thinks, has to know that he’s faking by now. There’s no way he doesn’t know that the kisses Simon begins to press to his jawline are the result of Simon being unable to help himself. He can’t fake stupor when Baz is that close and being that… well, _Baz_ -like. Like, that’s his boyfriend. His _strong and beautiful_ boyfriend 

If he’s onto Simon he doesn’t show it, training his expression in a familiar sort of neutrality. But Simon sees a light flush at the top of Baz’s cheeks. Simon presses a kiss just there, where his cool blood rises to the skin. Baz smiles at him.

Baz pushes Simon’s bedroom door open with the side of his foot and Simon’s stay in Baz’s arms is unfortunately over. He’s laid in bed with the grace that Baz treats all of his actions, and Simon, being Simon, tugs on his hands to try to make him tumble into bed with him.

“I need to get you out of these,” he says, gesturing to Simon’s clothes by sliding a hand down his front. 

“I don’t know if I have the energy, Baz,” he says, and it’s true. He was so comfortable in Baz’s arms that his eyelids began to droop. Though, he could be persuaded easily. 

Baz sneers on instinct, shoving at Simon's shoulder. 

“Shut up. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Simon lies through a giggle. 

Simon Snow has never been particularly good at planning- nor plotting. That being said, maybe pretending to be drunk wasn’t such a good impulse to follow. Baz being soft with him always makes Simon feel like he’s going to melt through to the center of the earth. He sort of wants to lay him down gently and press deliberate kisses to every inch of his body. He also sort of wants to suck him off.

But he _can’t_ . Because he’s supposed to be _drunk_. 

Baz would never have sex with Simon while drunk (obviously). Sex isn’t _necessary_ , but he played up his drunkenness too much. He probably couldn’t even get away with some light petting. Worst of all, Simon definitely played it up too much to back down now. Or to suddenly become sober enough to whisper poetry to his boyfriend (not that he would do that, but it’s a nice thought). How is one supposed to explain that they pretended to be drunk to get out of driving?

Maybe his yearning is punishment enough for his lie.

Simon, in recompense for his mischief throughout the night, tries to make it easy for Baz to take off his clothes. He lifts his hips when Baz peels down his now too-tight jeans and sits up on his palms when Baz takes his shirt off. There’s an unreadable look on Baz’s face when he pulls the blanket up to Simon’s chin. His eyes rake over Simon; Simon just wants him to get into bed with him.

“I’m going to get you some water,” Baz whispers, and Simon is so fucking soft he could die. He’s beginning to melt right into the bed. “Then I’m going to put it on your table.”

“Stay here tonight,” Simon mumbles immediately. He can’t get over how sweet Baz is being, nor can he reciprocate in any way right now. But, if Baz stays the night…

“I will,” he promises quietly, squeezing Simon’s ankle before leaving the room. Simon can’t help but grin. 

In the quiet comfort of his bedroom, Simon lets his eyes fall closed. In a few moments Baz will come back and climb into bed with him, and, since he’s staying the night with him, Simon will be able to curl into him. He’ll hold Baz through the night and, when he wakes up, Simon will come clean about pretending to be drunk. He can’t be mad if Simon tells him after making him breakfast. In bed. Followed by a blowjob. Yeah, it’ll be fine. 

Simon doesn't open his eyes when Baz comes back into the room. He hears the ‘thunk’ of the glass against his bedside table, followed by a series of shuffling until he feels the bed dip next to him. Baz tucks himself into Simon’s side and pulls the blanket back up to their chins. Simon is sure he’s cold, he always is, so he wraps his wing around him too. 

In a few moments, he feels Baz’s body go loose against him and his deep breathing moves Simon’s hair. Simon smiles, turns his head, and presses a kiss against the side of Baz’s head. 

Tomorrow, he thinks, he’ll treat Baz like a king.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can find me on Tumblr [here](https://motherscarf.tumblr.com/).


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